


I Can See The Sunset For Miles Ahead

by auroreanrave



Series: trust your senses [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:53:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroreanrave/pseuds/auroreanrave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia knows that her future doesn't lie in Beacon Hills. Not really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Can See The Sunset For Miles Ahead

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [whatever a moon has always meant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/528916) by [resplendissante](https://archiveofourown.org/users/resplendissante/pseuds/resplendissante). 



> Part of a series of 'Teen Wolf' ficlets or short pieces focused around the five senses. This one is based around the sense of 'sight'.
> 
> Inspired by the absolutely fantastic writing of Lydia in the work 'whatever a moon has always meant' by resplendissante.

Lydia knows that her future doesn't lie in Beacon Hills. Not really. She can see it. Always.

Sure, she knows logically that her ties will always be here. Despite her most fervent attempts to cull off useless or unnecessary ties (she will always love her mother, despite her flaws), she knows that part of her will always reside here.

She's smart, much smarter than her professors, and she knows that she's going to MIT, to New York, to the places in the world where the lights shine a little brighter. Lydia will find a husband somewhere in the halls of Harvard, or Oxford maybe (she loves a British accent, it'll make sounding out the vowels of polynomial equations or the works of Chaucer a little more inviting), and then touring the world. Seeing every spot on the planet that she wants.

Tokyo. Bhutan. Abu Dhabi. The possibilities are endless, she knows. She can see them.

She also knows the feeling of standing in an apartment and feel like she's dancing in a graveyard. Lydia knows that cold curling through her chest, like icicles pushing through her sternum. It's not terrifying, not anymore, but it still makes her stop and catch her breath whenever it happens and she has to ring Stiles or Allison or Scott to make them get there in time because she is many, many things, but someone physically equiped to take down a supernatural entity, she is not.

Sometimes she dreams in death, covering her bare shoulders like a cloak. Dark and ephemeral like a shroud. She dreams of murder and suicide and sees the darkest parts of humanity over and over and over and has learned how to survive on five hours sleep and still walk like she has the world under her shoes.

And Lydia knows that she will be someone, but not the someone she dreamed of when she was barely thirteen and tired of feeling powerless, caught in the wrong town and the wrong gender to be taken seriously by boys.

Oh, she _knows_ she'll always be the best-dressed girl in the room. She knows that when she attends the Met Ball, she'll outshine the stars. And she knows that for every person who told her she was just a girl, she'll crush the competition and grind them to dust beneath her finest heels, with her hair curled _just_ right and her lipstick her favourite shade of crushed crimson.

And she'll love them, this weird misfit pack she appears to have accumlated. Stiles might be her classmate at Harvard and she and Allison will compare dresses for Allison's wedding and she and Scott will always be friends (surprise surprise, five years ago she'd have laughed in her own face). She'll always come back when they need her, and even when they don't. She's pack.

Lydia Martin takes a blanket and a bottle of wine from her mother's cellar and takes it to the fields just outside of her house. She drinks and watches the sun set into oranges and pinks. She can see her own future, stretching out for miles and miles into the light, and she likes what she sees.


End file.
